


After the Battle

by reona32



Series: The Bowman and the Elvenking [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: After the battle, Canon Animal Death, M/M, Movie 3: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, talk of wounded and dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reona32/pseuds/reona32
Summary: Immediately after the battle and that evening.
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Series: The Bowman and the Elvenking [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738627
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	After the Battle

After; after the great eagles turned the tide of the battle and the last of the orc forces were routed, after Bard had made sure his children were alright, he went looking for Thranduil. There were elves everywhere but not the one he was looking for. The wounded were being gathered. Men and elves alike were combing through the bodies for those still alive, finishing the orcs and bringing the wounded to the medical tents that had popped up in Dale. Bard had left Sigrid there to help as she could, the young girl insistent that she be allowed to give assistance. Already the field between Dale and Erebor was filled with fires as the orc and troll dead were burned. The discarded weapons and armor were collected to be later melted down for tools and other items Dale might need. They could not pass up the resource. Already snow drifted down from the grey sky; winter was upon them.

Finally, Bard found the Elvenking at the gate to the causeway. He caught a glance of silver-blond hair and his heart leapt. It sank a moment later when he realized what Thranduil was doing. Several elven guards surrounded the Elvenking but they let Bard pass with a slight bow of their heads. Bard felt his chest tighten as he walked up to Thranduil cradling the huge head of his elk in his lap. The arrows were gone but blood still covered the beast's head and neck. Thranduil's gloves were gone and he was stroking the elk's cheek. The elf's long pale hair hung down to hide his face.

Bard sat heavily across from him. “I'm sorry,” he muttered uselessly. Thranduil didn't appear to react. Bard reached out and petted the elk's long neck, keeping a careful eye on Thranduil. “He was a magnificent animal. I saw how you and he cleared the causeway.” Bard shifted, relieving the pressure on his heavily bruised right side. There were cuts on his arms and a shallow gash on his right thigh but he counted himself lucky. “What was his name?”

Thranduil lifted his head, hair slipping back over his shoulders. Bard blinked and frowned, sure for a moment that the elf's left eye had been milky and unseeing but the sight was gone a half second later. Icy blue eyes swam with tears but a blink banished them quickly. “His name was Taurhîr.” Thranduil stroked from the elk's nose to his neck. “It means forest lord,” he supplied before Bard could ask.

“A fitting name,” Bard said quietly.

“I know some of your people think...” Thranduil broke off. Bard was horrified to see his lips slightly tremble. “But I can not allow such a thing. I can not.” The elven guards around them shifted in unease.

“Allow what?”

Thranduil glared. “I know they are hungry but I will not allow...”

Brad cut him off quickly. “No. No one will be eating Taurhîr. I don't care what they are saying. It's not happening.” The man felt sick to his stomach at the idea. They would get by without resorting to such a thing.

Thranduil's glare cooled, looking back down at his elk. “Thank you,” he whispered. He sat caressing the fur of his elk for some time. Bard shivered in the chilly air but made no move to leave. He did not want to leave the Elvenking alone in his grief and Thranduil did not seem to mind his presence. Suddenly, Thranduil stood. He held one hand out and a guard passed him his gloves. Bard stood as Thranduil pulled his gloves on. The Elvenking directed a nod to the side and Bard looked over to see a group of elves with a large white sheet waiting. Thranduil turned on his heel and began to walk away, his guards falling into position around him. “Come, Bard, there is much to be done.” Bard hurried after Thranduil as the sheet was spread over the elk.

“What will they do with him?”

“They will take Taurhîr back to Greenwood to be entombed,” Thranduil replied and then changed the subject. “How are your people? Are they being fed?”

Bard nodded. “Yes. A food hall has been set up in the old market place. A couple women and elves have taken it upon themselves to cook up a stew with the supplies you brought.”

“Good. It will no doubt be a long night for everyone.” Thranduil stopped and turned to the man. “It will be a cold night as well. I suggest you seek out your second in command; Percy, was it?, and see that fires are started where people may rest and warm themselves when they may. We must remove the orcs and other fell creatures from Dale as quickly as possible before they foul the land and water.”

“A rotating guard should be created,” said Bard. “We're still finding rouge goblins hiding in the ruins of the city and there is no telling what will be sneaking around in the dark later.”

Thranduil nodded, giving the man an approving look. “Good idea. Filegor.” An elf guard with ash blond hair stepped forward. “Find Feren and have him meet us in my tent in an hour.” The guard bowed and darted off. Thranduil continued on until they arrived in the old market and Bard was surprised when the Elvenking entered the food hall. Bard followed and saw every elf in the large tent come to their feet at the same time. Thranduil flicked his fingers and the elves sat again in unison. The Men in the tent muttered in astonishment.

“Bard!” called a woman, waving. Bard paused as Thranduil walked to the back of the tent and began to speak with a female elf there dressed in greens and browns.

“Hilda,” Bard called back, heading toward the woman. “Percy, just who I wanted to see.”

“That sounds ominous.”

Bard chuckled, tossing his leg over a box and sitting. “Not really. Thranduil and I want to set up a guard for overnight. The sun will be setting soon and I worry about what lurks in the dark tonight. Are you free to meet in Thranduil's tent in an hour? I'm thinking we'll create patrols that have a mix of Men and elf. I don't want the brunt of the responsibility to fall to the elves.”

“Aye,” agreed Percy. “We need to be pulling our own weight. They've set up more beds in the great hall, did you know? A big fire is going in there to keep the elderly and the young'ns warm.”

“They brought my mother's keepsake box over from Lake-town,” said Hilda, a crooked smile on her face. “I thought it lost in the fire. It's a little singed and wet but intact.”

“The elves are still going out to Lake-town? Do they need help?”

“I offered,” replied Percy. “But Celeron said it would be too dangerous and talked us out of it.” He gestured at a male elf sitting not too far away with dark blond hair twisted into a lazy braid. He turned at his name. “Won't let us clumsy Men out there,” Percy teased.

Bard was afraid the elf would take offense but he merely smiled. “It is not our fault you are so heavy.” Everyone in ear shot, and that was the whole tent for the elves, laughed. Celeron shook his head. “The structure of Lake-town is fire damaged and fragile. Even for us, there will be not many more places we dare to venture into. I am sorry.”

“Ah, don't be sorry, lad. What you've brought us is more than we ever expected.”

“Again, Master Percy, I am many, many years your senior. I am not a lad.” There was another burst of laughter.

Bard laughed too. He was tired, his wounds stung and he really should stop by a medical tent to get them seen to, and this might have been the third worst day of his life (the first being the death of his wife and the second being the dragon attacking Lake-town) but he was warm, a brown haired elf was pressing a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread into his hands, and his children and friends were safe. He was, for the first time in a long time, mostly content. Bard looked around for the familiar head of silver-blond hair but Thranduil was gone.

Bard next saw the Elvenking in his tent with Feren and Galion, Auriel standing at the entrance. Gandalf sat around the table as well, his bushy beard mud speckled. Bard entered with Percy and Hilda, because she wouldn't be left behind. A watch and guard rotation was set. Groups of three Men and three elves would patrol the city of Dale in a crisscross pattern that often overlapped to make sure no dark crevice could hide a single goblin or orc.

Galion made a short but depressing report on their supplies of food and medical materials. “A message from Cedhril has said that more supplies will arrive from Greenwood in three days. They can get here no quicker, my lords.”

Thranduil sighed quietly. “We have enough to last until then, if we use supplies sparingly.” He sipped from a goblet, which Bard knew held just water. “Any word from the dwarves?”

“Some messages from Dáin Ironfoot,” replied Galion.

Thranduil closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Any messages from him that don't include cursing or insults calling me sparkly or pretty?” Gandalf badly hid a laugh by coughing.

Galion pursed his lips, scanning the page in front of him. He flipped it and scanned the other side. “No.” Bard and Percy chuckled. Even Feren's lips twitched in amusement. “But there are several from Master Balin about the conditions of Erebor, what to do about their wounded that ended up in our care, and a trade of supplies to support them.”

The look of surprise was subtle on Thranduil's face as he held one elegant hand out for the parchment. Icy blue eyes darted across the page before handing it to Bard, much to his bewilderment. “Master Balin's proposal is acceptable,” announced Thranduil. “Those dwarves that are ambulatory shall return to Erebor in the next few days. Those who require greater care and it would be unwise to move shall be treated here. Master Balin will have a shipment of medical supplies delivered in the next day, to supplement our own supplies. He is also sending over one of their healers to assist in their care. A dwarf woman by the name of Loni.” Bard quickly read the parchment as Thranduil spoke.

“A knowledgeable woman,” endorsed Gandalf.

“I'll have a bed prepared for her,” Galion said.

“He suggests a meeting for negotiations of reparations and trade one month hence,” said Bard.

“You'll need stone in order to repair the walls of Dale,” Feren said. “It should be the first task you complete.”

“Even Dáin Ironfoot cannot escape the culpability of the dwarves in this situation,” Gandalf said. The wizard glared as Thranduil snorted delicately. “It would also behoove Erebor for Dale to be a strong kingdom again. For that, they will assist you in rebuilding Dale.”

Bard felt a rush of cold and then hot prickle his scalp. The thought, the dream, of seeing Dale and its people thrive and grow seemed almost too good. He was hesitant to even think it. The bowman was so used to just scraping by on Lake-town that the idea of living any other way both thrilled and panicked him. “I believe that is enough for the day,” announced Thranduil. “Galion, Feren, pass on your orders and then you have leave until tomorrow morning. Mithrandir, don't you dare.” The wizard bristled, his long pipe between his lips, and huffed out of the tent.

Galion smile slightly at Bard. “His tobacco smoke smells foul,” the elf shared before leaving the tent, Feren in his silvery armor with him. Hilda chuckled.

“Master Percy, Mistress Hilda,” Thranduil said, startling the pair by addressing them directly. “If you could be so kind and see that Lord Bard next goes to the medical tent. He is bleeding and needs to be seen to.” Bard scowled as Percy glared at him.

“Are you mad, man?!” yelled Hilda. “You going about injured! Come on. Up you get. Una is working in the tent by the old well. She'll set you right.” She practically hauled Bard up out of his chair and pushed himself the tent. He had just enough time to glare back at the Elvenking, Thranduil smirking as he was hustled away.

Percy, left behind, stood awkwardly from his chair. Thranduil gave him a curious blink, as one awaiting a performer to do a trick. Percy bowed stiffly. “Good evening, your majesty.”

Thranduil tilted his head graciously, silver-blond hair slipping over his shoulder. “Good evening, Master Percy.” Percy made good on his escape.

**Author's Note:**

> I have too much fun naming elves.
> 
> Auriel=daughter of sunlight  
> Filegor=little birds  
> Celeron= swift
> 
> And of course Galion and Feren are popular fanmade characters.


End file.
